


Oh, The Stars Were Made For Us

by queeniegalore



Series: One of Two Words [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Come Eating, Comeplay, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Endearments, Humiliation, M/M, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, PWP, Pet Names, Porn, Rylen's sexy tattoos and accent, Spit Kink, it's just porn folks, kinda light petplay maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 06:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16153364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queeniegalore/pseuds/queeniegalore
Summary: Cullen and Rylen are reunited after a long time apart, and rekindle an old flame. Cullen falls back into old habits. Rylen is happy to help.It's just nearly 6000 words of porn, my friends.





	Oh, The Stars Were Made For Us

**Author's Note:**

> Title from High Enough by K.Flay
> 
> This is a Ds scene that doesn't include any explicit onscreen negotiation or safeword discussion. I feel like I've done enough to show both enthusiastic consent and care, but if anyone needs me to tag for that just let me know.

There weren’t enough soldiers spare to even nearly fill Griffon Wing Keep, and thus Rylen’s room was large, on one of the upper levels, with a window gazing out over the desert and a bed that looked clean and fresh and big.

“Enough rooms for all the officers to sleep comfortable, and the barracks are so sparse the men have more space then they know what to do with,” Rylen said, coming in behind Cullen and gently kicking the door shut. There wasn’t anything defensive in his voice, and Cullen smiled slightly as he added. “Any time you want to send more out, Cullen, we’d appreciate it.”

“You think the Inquisition’s resources are infinite?” Cullen asked lightly, and moved to the window. It was small, they were in a fortress after all, but it let in the light of the moons, and the spill of stars across the black sky was dazzling. “Of course, we spare what we can.”

“Of course,” Rylen’s voice, thick Starkhaven brogue and all,  was slightly mocking. He went about lighting lanterns and candles, until the room was suffused with a soft orange glow. It was too warm in the desert for a fire, even though the nights could still get a little chilly. “Look at you, my boy. Running an army.”

The heat in Cullen’s cheeks had nothing to do with the warmth of the room.

“Doing my best,” he said and then, quietly, looking at the ground, “Ser.”

Rylen chuckled.

“Ah, Cullen. I thought so.” He came up behind Cullen at the window, steps heavy to telegraph his movements, and laid a hand on Cullen’s elbow. “Came here for a reason, didn’t you lad?”

It wasn’t shame that filled Cullen at those words, but the cousin to shame, maybe. He closed his eyes and bit at his lips for a moment before answering, Rylen waiting patiently, his touch light. He was as handsome as Cullen remembered; the desert apparently agreed with him. Brown skin and light eyes, delicate tattoos curling down his nose and over his chin, lower. His smile was the same: open, knowing, inviting.

“Came to see an old colleague,” Cullen said finally, softly. “Came to see my second in command. Lots to, ah...lots to discuss.”

“Indeed,” Rylen said, amused. “We could do that, you know. I’ll send for some more wine, we could sit up all night on opposite ends of that table and discuss troop movements and supply routes.” He stepped in a little closer, pressing up gently against Cullen’s back, and dipped his head until his lips brushed Cullen’s ear. “Say the word, lad.”

“ _Ser_ ,” Cullen said again instead, a little desperate. He was shivering, mind racing, wondering how many people had seen him come up here, how many people would notice. No one would think it was anything untoward, not really, and those that did probably thought the Commander could do with a little bit of something untoward every now and then. Wine, talk, maybe a tumble with an old friend. It sounded so very simple, but that wasn't...wasn't this.

He leaned back slightly into Rylen’s body. He was at once a man of thirty one and the Commander of an army, and a boy of twenty three, lost and confused and sure of nothing except Rylen’s touch, his _voice…_

“Please.”

“It’s alright, lad,” Rylen said gently, mouth still hot at his ear as Cullen struggled not to squirm. “Been awhile, yeah? No one taking care of you up in that big castle in the sky?”

“No one,” Cullen agreed, voice hoarse. “There’s been no one.”

“And that’s just a fucking shame.” Rylen sighed, and dragged his fingers up Cullen’s arm, over his armour where Cullen couldn’t feel it, and he _ached_. “What about that big Qunari? He seems like he’d know how to look after you. Or maybe that pretty ‘Vint motherfucker, he looks like he’s got some tricks up his sleeve. No?”

Cullen laughed softly, and held still as Rylen unclasped his mantle and set it aside, before going to work on the clasps of his plate. “The big Qunari and the pretty ‘Vint are taking care of each other,” he said. “There’s been _no one_ , Ser.”

Rylen hummed, and was quiet for a moment as he methodically removed and racked Cullen’s armour. He’d already taken most of his own off, before coming down to find Cullen and invite him up, and his fingers were bare and dry and callused where they brushed Cullen’s skin. The thin linen on his undertunic was crinkled, and smelled of sweet herbs and sweat, and, faintly, sand.

Holding himself still, moving only when directed, Cullen stared out the window. Bull and Dorian were on this floor, as honoured guests, but they’d be too preoccupied with each other to notice anything else going on. Varric was down in the makeshift tavern in the basements, he’d be drinking the night away before taking one of the rooms near the barracks. The Inquisitor had closed three rifts in an afternoon and had fallen asleep in a room on the top floor, guarded by two men at her door she’d be dead to the world until morning.

The walls were stone, and the door heavy. Cullen slumped slightly, and let Rylen offload a year’s worth of stress along with his armour. Oh, for a night, for a few hours, he could _have this._

“There’s a boy,” Rylen said approvingly as he saw Cullen relax. “I’ll see to you tonight lad, don’t you worry. Get all this off you, there we go. _Fuck_ , you grew up nice, Cullen. Look at this.” He pinched at the muscles at Cullen’s waist, not hard but surprising, his touch until then having been so practical. Cullen jumped, and Rylen laughed. “Easy, lad. Just admiring the goods. When did all this happen?” The pinch became a smooth rub over Cullen’s stomach, thick and bulky with muscle, the lightest layer of fat over it all adding to the heft. Cullen looked away. He was in plate all day every day, trained the recruits, sparred with Cassandra and Bull, led from the front where and when he was able… and he ate more, now he had a handle on the lyrium withdrawals, those damn flaky Orlesian pastries at breakfast when he could get away with them…

“I...I don’t…” he stammered, and Rylen laughed some more, rubbing him soothingly through his shirt.

“It’s _good_ , lad. Maker knows you could have used it back up in the Marches. You were such a pup back then.” He lowered his voice, nuzzling at Cullen’s neck a little. “A dumb little pup begging for a collar and leash. How much has changed, I wonder?”

Cullen caught his breath, and for the first time reached to grip Rylen’s arm, pulling him in close, fingers shaky and tight. “Nothing’s changed,” he whispered. “Ser Rylen, please, I need you.”

“Yeah I know,” Rylen smiled against his neck before biting him, just lightly. “Come on, pup. You were always prettier naked. Get this shit off and show me what I’ve been missing.”

He stepped away, leaving Cullen reeling for a moment before he hurried to obey. Finally turning from the window to face Rylen, who sat now on the bed to take off his boots, Cullen stripped quickly, folding his clothes and setting him on the floor next to his armour as he went. He paused at his smalls, waiting for Rylen to look up and wave at him impatiently to go on, and when he stepped out of those he thought his blush might actually set him alight.

He was hard, almost painfully so, had been from nearly the moment he walked into the room. Rylen leaned back on one hand, watching, amusement faint on his tattooed, weathered face. He opened his legs a little in clear invitation, and nodded at the floor between them.

“Come on then pup, let’s get you back where you belong. Maker, look at that fucking thing…” Cullen stumbled a little as he stepped forward, and Rylen steadied him with a hand on his hip, looking up at him with a smirk. “Eager, clumsy, desperate to please. Shit, lad you’re right, nothing’s fucking changed, has it?”

“No Ser,” Cullen admitted. “Probably more desperate, to be honest.”

Rylen laughed and pinched him again, hand sneaking around to his ass and grabbing a handful, rough, possessive. Cullen was standing in the open vee of his legs, and he wanted very badly to either drop to his knees or to push his cock forward, get a touch on it, something. He did neither, breathing hard as Rylen groped him with both hands now, squeezing and kneading his ass, opening him and letting go, fingers just barely slipping into his crack before moving away.

“No one but me, huh. How long’s it been, lad? And you haven’t had _anyone_ else in this ass? Fuckng pity. You were made for this.”

“Ser,” Cullen agreed, eyes closed, gasping. Yes. If he was made for this, than nothing else mattered. It was all so easy. Just this, just Rylen’s hands and his mouth and his rough Starkhaven accent. Just the warm air against his naked skin and his hard cock and the way his lips were swollen and desperate to be put to use. Just this.

“Kneel, then,” Rylen said quietly, letting go of his ass to urge him down. “You’re still fucking pretty, you know that? You grew up and got all that bulk, and I _like_ it, lad, but you're just too fucking sweet. Can’t believe no one’s had a go at you, you walk around begging for it, that Maker-damned pretty face of yours.”

Cullen tried to duck his head, but a finger under his chin stopped him, and then Rylen was leaning down, and he smelled so fucking good Cullen _moaned_. His lips were soft, full, a little chapped from wind and sun, and he kissed Cullen like he was designed for it. Hard, demanding, teeth and tongue opening him up, and all Cullen could do was surrender to it. All he _wanted_ to do. Rylen tasted like spice and mint and the dry, sweet wine they’d had with dinner. But then under it, slicing through, the faintest hint of lyrium, making him hum and burn.

Cullen wrenched his head away in shock, looking to the side and panting, lips wet. It was a lot, it was too _much_ , and he couldn’t think for a moment, heart pounding for a few long seconds with a different kind of need.

“Hey lad, shh. Come on.” Rylen’s voice was rough and low, breath warm against Cullen’s cheek. “Is it the blue? I’ve only been off it for a month, you know. The fucking withdrawals almost did me in in the first week, but it’s nearly out of my system. Never really gone though, right?”

A _month_ , and Cullen could still taste it. He nodded, ashamed, and Rylen drew him back.

“Pup, don’t worry about it. Remember? When you’re with me, you think about what I tell you to think about, worry about what I want you to worry about. Fucking shame I can’t kiss that pretty mouth but it’s not gonna kill me. Think I recall those lips being good for something else, anyway. You want to show me?” he paused, stroking Cullen’s hair gently. “Or we can stop, Cullen. Or take a break. It’s been a long time, lad.”

“No,” Cullen sighed, and looked back up. Rylen looked...concerned but not worried. It had always been like this, Rylen could say the absolute filthiest things, use Cullen like a whore, break him open, take him down...but only if Cullen wanted. Only _how_ Cullen wanted. Cullen always came first. It was a heady feeling, and one he sorely missed.

“Ser, I’m yours,” he said, trying to pour as much sincerity and desperation into the words as he could. He licked his lips, tongue lingering on his scar, as Rylen’s eyes did. “I’ve thought about this for months. I’ve wanted you, lain awake at night aching for you. My hand, my fingers, Ser, I can’t make it feel like you do.” He watched Rylen’s light eyes narrow, his mouth part. Maker, he was handsome, his tattoos, his lips. “The lyrium doesn’t bother me, I swear. It just caught me off guard. I _want_ you, your taste in my mouth, _please-_ ”

He was cut off as Rylen took his chin in a tight grip, forcing him back into another kiss, even deeper than the first. Hard and rough, his tongue pushing into Cullen’s mouth, and Cullen sucked it, tasted it and, and this, naked on his knees with Rylen forcing this kiss on him, this was as close to perfection as he’d ever known.

“Good pup,” Rylen muttered against his mouth, still biting and licking at him. “Good little pup. You’ll take what I tell you, won’t you?”

“Yes Ser,” Cullen gasped. “ _Anything_.”

“Anything? That’s dangerous. More muscles then sense. You always did get sex stupid, lad.” Rylen pulled back and smirked. “Keep your mouth open, I’m not done with it. You wanna taste me?” Cullen nodded dumbly, and Rylen leaned over him, untying the laces of his trews with one hand, other back to gripping Cullen’s chin. He spat into Cullen’s mouth, onto his tongue, followed it with two rough fingers thrusting in sharply. Cullen tried to swallow around them, choking a little as Rylen laughed breathlessly. Fingers fucking his mouth, and then Rylen’s cock, finally free, nudging at his bottom lip and off to the side, the barest smear of precome left over his cheek. He tried to turn his head to capture it, but Rylen’s fingers wouldn’t let him. They hooked over his bottom teeth, held him still and open, and Cullen panted, tried not to struggle as that thick cockhead was forced into his mouth too, jaw aching.

“Good lad, good pup,” Rylen soothed. “Just keep it open for me, just hold it. I’ll fuck you when I’m ready, you don’t have to do anything but take it. Just be a hole for me, pretty lad. Just like old times, under my desk for hours, keeping my cock warm. I’ll let you know when you're allowed to have a fucking opinion about what’s happening, don’t you worry.”

Cullen moaned, cock heavy and hot between his legs, aching to be touched. Oh, he remembered those days, back when he was so scared and stressed and tense about everything all the time. The way Rylen could turn it off, take everything away from him for a few hours, nothing to think about but his body and what it could be made to feel. Fuck he wanted that again, just for a night. Just for right now.

Rylen withdrew his fingers and wiped them in Cullen’s hair. “Wish I had a collar up here for you. Wish I could send you back to the Inquisition with my collar around your neck. Ah, puppy, you need this, eh? Maybe I’ll send one of my lads back with you, instead, to keep you in hand while I’m here. Do you a world of good, pup.”

Cullen flushed and shuddered, felt a bead of fluid drip from the head of his cock and slide down his shaft. He kept his mouth open and tongue still and Rylen lazily stroked his cock in and out, just barely fucking him. The thought of one of Rylen’s men - _his_ men, really, Cullen’s - taking his place, waltzing into his office whenever he pleased and ordering the Commander to his knees…

“Aye, you like _that_ idea,” Rylen said knowingly. “Little whore.” His thrusts came faster now, harder, pushing at the back of Cullen’s throat before withdrawing, keeping hm right on the edge of gagging. “You’re a fucking menace, pup. Mouth that sweet deserves my come, wanna make you choke on it. But Maker’s _throne_ I’ve been dreaming about filling that tight ass of yours. Another reason to get one of the lads in on this, you need to be kept full in both ends, aye? Deserve that.”

Cullen listened to him ramble, tears filling his eyes as he choked, drawing in breaths where he could, sinking into the pain and the pleasure radiating up from his stiff cock. He’d never done anything like _that_ , it was just fantasy, but the idea was thrilling. A stray image of Bull and Dorian came to him, he imagined they were engaged in similar pursuits in their room down the hall, he wondered if they’d… But no, Rylen was enough, for now, Rylen and his thick cock and filthy mouth, his hand fisted in Cullen’s hair, the handsome face tilted over him, watching, looking after him. Cullen didn’t have to do anything except keep his mouth open. Rylen would take care of the rest.

He drifted, for a while, Rylen’s words settling over him  - _there’s a good pup, you’re perfect, you’re nothing, you’re mine_ \- the taste on his tongue getting saltier, Rylen getting rougher, faster. Cullen squeezed his own hands into fists on his knees, he knew what was coming next: Rylen’s seed flooding his mouth and throat, Rylen making him swallow it and choke on it until it was all he could taste. The anticipation built and built, like he was waiting for his own orgasm, and it became harder to stay passive when all he wanted to do was suck the come out of that gorgeous cock in his mouth.

“No, _fuck_ ,” Rylen finally growled, surely right on the cusp, and pulled himself out of Cullen, a long line of spit and precome stretching from his cockhead to Cullen’s swollen bottom lip. “Oh, fuck, pup, I wanna fill you up so bad, you want that?”

Cullen nodded as best he could with Rylen still gripping his hair, tears spilling down his cheeks, mouth still open. He shuddered as Rylen spat again, onto his tongue, and his cock jerked with the humiliation and intimacy of it.

“Swallow,” Rylen whispered, and Cullen did, holding his gaze, wet eyes wide. “Fuck you’re filthy for me,” Rylen breathed, swiping a thumb over the drool and precome soaking Cullen’s chin and pushing it up over his bottom lip and into his mouth. “Up on the bed, puppy dog. Time to pay attention to that other hole of yours I’ve been missing.”

He let go, and Cullen swayed for a moment, dazed, before clambering gracelessly onto the bed, Rylen slapping his ass on his way up. He was urged onto his hands and knees in the centre, face pressed roughly into a soft pillow that smelled like Rylen, spice and lyrium-sweat. He breathed in deep, let it fill his senses, felt a little high with it.

“Spread your fucking legs, sweetheart,” Rylen ordered softly behind him, and Cullen obeyed, back in a deep arch, face down, ass up and open. He was painfully exposed, painfully aware of Rylen’s sharp gaze on him, looking right through him. And he loved it, cock still hard to bursting and drooling precome now down onto Rylen’s blankets and making a mess.

Another slap to his asscheek made him jump, and then both of Rylen’s hands, like before, grabbing him and squeezing hard. It would bruise, Cullen thought happily. He’d remember this. He’d be _covered_ in it.

“This is pretty too,” Rylen said, spreading him open and spitting again, right onto his hole. “Missed it. Could just play with your asshole for hours, you know that lad? Take my damn time opening you up till you’re soft as cream for me down there. Ready whenever I want you, wet and smooth and plush. Bet you still taste sweet as candy, too.” He leaned in close, still clothed body arching over Cullen, linen and leather scratchy against skin damp with sweat. “Ever taste yourself, pup? Ever been tempted?”

Cullen was glad most of his face was hidden in the pillow. “No Ser,” he whispered, body shaking with Rylen’s soft laughter.

“Ever tasted anyone else?”

“ _No_ , Ser!”

“Ah come on, puppy.” Rylen sat back up and dragged his nails down Cullen’s back and side, back to his ass. “Look at you acting all innocent. Like you haven’t fucked yourself to orgasm on my tongue before.” He rubbed a single finger over Cullen’s hole, wet with spit, not pressing in yet, just playing. Cullen trembled with the effort to not push himself back and impale himself on it.

“Ser, please.”

“I’ve got you sweetheart.” Rylen dipped his finger in, just to the point of resistance, and held it there, moving with Cullen’s slight, aborted thrusts. “You see, you’re begging for this. Just a little touch, just a finger.” He leaned in, and Cullen moaned out loud when a tongue darted out and lapped at his rim, light, wet flicks. “Oh aye, you taste just like I fucking remember,” Rylen breathed against him. He moved his finger away and replaced it with his tongue, kissing Cullen’s asshole like he’d kissed his mouth, deep and hungry, tongue pushing against the tight muscle, again and again as it slowly opened, drawing back occasionally to spit before diving back in, and all Cullen could do was moan in pleasure, loose-limbed and fuck-stupid, rocking his hips up and back into it as Rylen ate him with abandon.

_“Oh fuck Ser, fuck fuck, fuck me please, oh please Ser…”_

Cullen would come, he thought, just like Rylen had reminded him he could do, on nothing but the tongue in his ass if he wasn’t careful. Not that it mattered. He was Rylen’s through and through, Rylen’s body to play with, Rylen’s hole to fuck. Cullen’s pleasure was secondary, less than important, but oh, he wouldn’t be able to stop it, wouldn't be able to…

“Here, pup, wait.” Cullen cried out, loud and ragged, as Rylen pulled away and surged back up his body, gripped his hair and wrenched his face out of the pillow. “Taste yourself, sweet lad. Come on.”

He didn’t resist as Rylen took his mouth, tongue pushing in past his lips. He tasted like nothing much, Cullen thought, musky and salty and metallic, the lyrium still present to give everything a sharp sweetness. He moaned anyway, because that was _him_ , and Rylen was right, he was filthy, this was filthy, this was letting go.

“Gonna come,” he managed around Rylen’s tongue, and Rylen chuckled.

“Don’t give a fuck,” he said, but moved back, breaking all contact except one firm hand at his hip as Cullen writhed and bucked, so close, so fucking close so…

“ _Fuck_!” he groaned as it came within an inch and receded, leaving his cock sore and red and desperate. “Ser!”

“Aye, pup, aye sweetheart,” Rylen’s voice was rough, that thick Starkhaven lilt making the words gravelly and hoarse. “I’ve got you now.” He reached past Cullen to a glass bottle on the table, and Cullen twisted to look over his shoulder as Rylen uncorked it with his teeth and spat it out. Oil, viscous and gold, poured down from it over his ass, into his crack and gathering thick in his hole. Cullen moaned and dropped his head again as Rylen rubbed his cock in it, coating himself but not pushing in just yet.

“Show me how much you want it, pup,” Rylen breathed, and Cullen looked at him again, but Rylen’s gaze was fixed between his legs, at where the head of his cock was stroking over and over his asshole.

“Oh sweet Maker,” Cullen whimpered. “Just fuck me, Ser, please.” He was twitching, he knew, embarrassed, Rylen could see everything, see every movement. And then there were fingers again, sliding in the oil and pushing in now, his ass softer, opened from Rylen’s mouth and tongue. The pleasure was hot and heady, and Cullen gave himself over to it, and to Rylen, his moans growing in volume, his body rocking back and forth unconsciously.

“Fuck me, yes Ser, oh fill me up, I need it, I want it, please.” A part of him, the part that wore an ostentatious fur mantle and got to bark orders at nobility, cringed at the sound of his own voice, so cracked and pleading. But the parts of him that belonged, now, to Rylen _revelled_ in it.

“Oh aye, lad,” Rylen gritted out, and there was his cock, wider than his fingers, poised at Cullen’s entrance. “Who are you, Cullen?”

“Your pup,” Cullen sobbed, as Rylen gripped his hip hard, stilling him. “Just your pup, Ser, yours to fuck, yours- ah!”

Oh, that first breach, that first push, always took Cullen’s breath away. He froze, tensing up as Rylen pushed in, just a dip before pulling back out, and in again, a little deeper. Playing with Cullen’s asshole with his cock, like he had with his fingers, with his tongue.

“I’m your toy,” Cullen whispered. “Ah, _fuck_ , Ser.”

“Damn right, puppy dog,” Rylen hissed, finally easing all the way in and holding as Cullen twisted and writhed on his cock. “Oh fuck the Maker, you needed this, eh? That asshole is even tighter than I remembered lad, even sweeter, fuck.”

Cullen couldn’t respond. He gripped the pillow with both hands and tried not to scream into it, the intensity of the pleasure pushing and pushing him, until he could see stars, until he had to let it out of his mouth in another rising moan. He wondered how thick those stone walls were, didn’t _care_ , Bull and Dorian could set up a listening party outside the door for all he gave a fuck. Rylen was in him so deep, so hard, and there were places inside him lighting up that hadn’t had use in _years_.

No one in his life had given him this. No one in his life had been able to take him apart, taken everything away from him, and replace it with the purity of this pleasure, the purity of being able to lose himself without inhibition. Rylen had caught him as a useless kid in his early twenties, seen the weight of everything on his shoulders, laughed at his idiocies and taken his fears away. It hadn’t...fixed him. Cullen didn’t think he’d ever be whole. And it wasn’t romance, being Rylen’s pup, being his lad - although there was love there, maybe, affection on both sides.

No, it was fucking. It was escape. It was play, and it was release. And now, right now, with that filthy voice in his ear and that thick cock in his ass, that sweet-sour scent surrounding him and filling his nose, it was _everything_.

“Ser,” he begged, twisting, and Rylen grunted as he reached down and caught Cullen around his thick waist, hauling him up onto his knees so he could sink back even further onto that cock. Cullen let his head loll back onto Rylen’s shoulder, the linen of his shirt soaked through with sweat, transparent enough to show the dark lines of his tattoo that swirled down from the his face to cover half his chest. It was luxurious, to fall back against that solid body, to be held and taken, to have a strong brown hand reach for his cock and hold him by it, to have a pair of fingers thrust into his mouth to suck with abandon.

“Good boy, _good_ boy,” Rylen panted in his ear. “Oh you grew up nice, but you’re still my sweet boy, Cullen. Still my good little pup. Come and get it whenever you need, Commander. That mantle gets too heavy, you come to me so I can strip you back down to where you belong.”

“Ser, yes ser,” Cullen moaned, eyes squeezed shut. He was close, too close to hold back this time, the slide of Rylen inside him, the rough grip around his cock. “Coming, Ser!”

“There’s a good pup,” Rylen said, approving, and fucked him harder, slamming up into him and knocking the breath from his lungs. “Come, puppy, come for me now. Give me what’s mine.”

With a low shout, Cullen obeyed, hips stuttering, cock pushing into Rylen’s grip. His mind whited out, nothing existed except the come pumping from him, the body surrounding him inside and out. Oh, it felt _good_ , oh, it was luscious to be covered in come and sweat and spit and Rylen.

“...feel you squeezing my cock, oh fuck Cullen,” Rylen was moaning into his neck as Cullen came back down, heavy and thick with the lingering, syrupy pleasure. Rylen pulled his hand from Cullen’s wet cock and brought it to his mouth, smearing come all over Cullen’s lips before twisting his head into a sloppy kiss as he pounded at Cullen’s lax body.

“Sweet, so sweet,” he murmured into the kiss, licking the come away and gripping Cullen lightly by the throat to hold him in place. “Gonna fill you up now, lad. Ready to take it?”

Cullen could only nod and gasp, and then he was thrown forward, bouncing on the bed as Rylen slammed in a few more times, a few stray cries of _puppy, lad, good boy_ , drifting down as Cullen took it, and took it, and took some more.

Rylen stilled for a long, sweet moment, before withdrawing slowly, hands firm on Cullen’s ass to hold him in place, and sinking back onto his knees. Cullen’s face flamed red, as he realised what Rylen was looking at. He could feel his hole quivering, feel the wetness coating it, and then Rylen’s thumbs pressing in, his low voice. “Show me, puppy dog. Show me.”

Cullen would have come again, if it were at all possible, as he hid his face in Rylen’s pillow and pushed his spend out, feeling the thick trickle slip down over his balls, down one thigh.

“Ser,” he mumbled. “Maker’s breath.”

A quiet, tired chuckle. “Hush, you. I’m enjoying the view.” But he leaned in and pressed a very chaste kiss to Cullen’s lower back before pulling away, leaving a companionable pat on Cullen’s asscheek as he went.

Cullen smiled into the pillow.

“Well, we’ve made a fucking mess of my blanket,” Rylen sighed, standing in the middle of the room and stripping out of his wet clothes as Cullen slowly rolled over, away from the wet spot and directly into the giant puddle of oil where Rylen had abandoned the bottle.

“ _You_ made a mess, Rylen,” Cullen corrected, grimacing as the cold oil coated his skin, mixing with...the everything else. “Sweet Maker, I can’t go back like this.”

Rylen shrugged, and kicked his smalls into a corner. “Fuck it. Stay here the night. Everyone knows you’re getting laid anyway.”

Cullen drew a hand over his face. He was still shaking, sore and loose and suffused with pleasure. “Get me a clean quilt and I’ll think about it,” he muttered. Rylen was probably right. Everyone would know. The particulars, though...that was no one’s business but theirs.

A wet cloth smacked him in the chest and he yelped, opening his eyes to Rylen’s grinning face. “Clean yourself up, lad,” he said, still naked, rubbing a cloth of his own down between his legs. “Unless you want whatever poor asshole I call to bring us fresh linen to get an eyeful.”

“Ugh.” But he sat up, slowly, and then stood, running the cool cloth over his body, down his thighs and between them. It would take more than that to get clean, but it was a start.

They cleaned up in silence for a time, Cullen accepting a pair of soft cotton sleeping pants to pull on, skin still a little shiny with oil all over but not too much to deal with. Rylen went to the door and called for fresh blankets as Cullen blushed out of sight. They’d _know_ , but it wouldn’t kill him. It was okay, to have this.

“You alright, lad?” Rylen asked, coming back and ruffling Cullen’s hair before pouring them both some wine. “Nothing going on in that head I need to worry about?”

Cullen smiled. “I’m _fine_ , Rylen,” he said, and then, as if it had only just occurred to him: “You realise, by the way, that you are only three years older than me?”

Rylen raised an eyebrow. “If you think age has anything to do with you being my lad, Cullen, then I’ve been doing something very wrong this whole time.”

Cullen laughed, and accepted his glass of wine. It was dry and sweet, like the desert air. He would not, he thought, be able to have this often. But he could have it. He could have it.

“No,” he said quietly, and took another sip. “No, you’re right.”

Rylen sat at the table, and inclined his head. Cullen hesitated for only a moment, before stepping in, dropping a kiss to Rylen’s bare shoulder, and then sinking to his knees at his feet, resting his head against his thigh.

“I know I am,” Rylen said, voice soft and amused. “Good lad.”

~

Cullen appeared at breakfast a little later than usual, the next morning, his plate gleaming and his mantle clasped just so. Bull, Dorian and Rylen were at the table, Rylen leaning against it and eating a roll as he spoke to them, apparently pausing on his way somewhere else. The three of them looked up as Cullen approached, and he fought a swift, losing battle against the blush that rose up to suffuse his cheeks.

“Morning,” he said, a little stiffly, eyes fixed firmly on what was left of breakfast.

“Good morning... _Commander_ ,” Rylen drawled, straightening up and smirking, as Cullen darted his eyes to his face. He slowly licked his lower lip, tongue lingering at the corner of his mouth, and Cullen’s blush intensified. There was a reason why _he_ was late, and _Rylen_ was eating his breakfast on the run.

Bull and Dorian were grinning at them openly. “Hey Cullen,” Bull boomed, and kicked out a chair. “How’s it going?”

Cullen sat down slowly, and set about filling a plate. “I’m good,” he said cautiously. “And how are you both?”

“Oh, excellent, as always,” Dorian replied for him, airily. “Despite a rather poor night’s sleep.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows politely. “Oh?”

“Mmm. Seems there’s some kind of echo in this old place,” Dorian said, smirking, and slow dread filled Cullen as he looked between the three of them, mouth open. “Kept hearing what sounded like a _puppy_ wailing. Rather loud. Went on most of the night.”

“Oh, Maker,” Cullen whispered, setting his plate down as Rylen waltzed off, laughing uproariously. “Please stop talking.”

“Now, now, _lad_ ,” Bull said, clapping Cullen on the shoulder as Cullen groaned and dropped his head into his plate of toast. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Cullen closed his eyes. He was going to die there, at that breakfast table, with Bull and Dorian snickering gleefully above his head.

And yet, after a night like he’d had...he couldn’t find it in himself to truly care.


End file.
